The Savage

Eight

Lying still, I tried to understand what woke me, for normally I slept deeply until morning. From far away I heard the faint call of an owl, layered below the chirping of the insects, and the sighing breeze. Propping myself up on one elbow, I looked around the small living room below my loft, but nothing stirred. The embers from the fire still glowed, but faintly, casting a dying red haze across the hearth. Laying down again, I listened to the sounds of the night, letting the wild call of the owl soothe me. Then I bolted upright, shivers running up and down my arms.

Pushing back my covers, I slid from bed and crept noiselessly down the ladder to the floor, peeking over at the closed bedroom door that separated Mamma and Frank's room. Tiptoeing to the door, I pulled the latch. The hinges were quiet and I eased outside into the crisp night air, closing the door behind me. Taking off at a run, my feet carried me toward the brook, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The owl hushed his calls, the grasshoppers and crickets shushing their songs as I went by. It total silence I came upon the spot I last met Wind Runner, looking cautiously around.

"Hao, little one." His voice came from the trees, and I watched as his silhouette stepped into sight. "I was not certain you would understand it was I."

"I did not at first," guardedly I approached a few more steps. "Then I realized there was an echo to the owl's call. Real owls do not echo."

"Hahn (yes)?" I could hear the smile in his voice. "How does such a young girl know these things?"

"Ah-day-wah'yea kee (my father)." I made no move to retreat as he came closer, closing the distance between us to a few feet. The language of my people was a balm on my restless spirit.

"The white man?" he indicated the cabin where Frank slept, but I shook my head.

"Napayshini. He is the father of my heart, of my blood."

It was too dark to see his expression, but Wind Runner was silent for a long moment, then he knelt before me, coming level with my eyes. For the first time I saw his features, the clear, strong cheekbones, the straight nose, fine lips. The moonlight reflected in silver waves off the raven black length of his hair.

"Napayshni has no child. That is well known among the nation."

"I was taken away, by my white mother." Defensive, I crossed my arms. "I do not tell untruth regarding this."

"Taku enee see yapi hey? (what is your name)"

"Kimimela."

"Little Butterfly." Wind Runner smiled widely, his eyes lighting up. "I have heard that name spoken of in whispers, in shadow. I did not believe."

"I am not a spirit, not a shade of smoke." Disbelief filled my voice. "I am Kimimela, daughter of Napayshni."

"Your father was a great warrior, a good man."

"Was?" at the word my voice caught, tightness constricting my ribcage until I couldn't breathe. "Does he live?"

Wind Runner stood up, backing away without answering me. When he moved toward the small brook, I was at his side. In silence, we knelt at the bank, and I instinctively copied his movements as he dipped his fingers into the water. With ceremonial dignity, he waved them solemnly in the air, humming a soft chant under his breath. Without looking at me, he spoke.

"It is not polite to speak of the dead, but as you are a child, and away from the fires of your people, I will speak of him this one time. Napayshni sits at the council fires of his ancestors now, in the peace of the spirit land. He fell in battle against the Blue Coats, but he died with great honor."